


You Took My Love and You Put It Down

by NotManTheLessButNatureMore



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Angst, Gen, Pining, angsty pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 14:59:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17962751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotManTheLessButNatureMore/pseuds/NotManTheLessButNatureMore
Summary: These two. smh.*slight spoilers for Lethal White - A character from the book is mentioned.*





	You Took My Love and You Put It Down

Robin watched as the hand on the clock inched closer to nine and still there were no sounds from above. They had agreed yesterday morning that they would leave at nine to interview a client’s assistant just outside of Windsor. The Land Rover was parked outside and Robin had a bag on the floor beside her with a flask of coffee, sandwiches, biscuits and crisps, enough to feed her and Strike twice over so there’d be no complaints from her partner.

 

The clock struck nine and Robin stood up. The traffic report on the way into work had been full of accidents and roadworks so she’d sent him a text the minute she got to the office to remind him to be ready to leave at nine. There had been no response and she’d sat listening for any sign of movement in the flat above since.

 

Robin walked heavily up the stairs to his flat, as she usually did when she was going to wake him, in the hopes that he would hear her coming and not be in a state of undress when she inched the door open. She had casually mentioned to him that most people locked their front doors but he argued that no one was going to climb all the way up to the attic thinking there was gold hidden in a dingy flat the size of a shoebox.

 

Robin paused at the door and hearing no sounds she pushed the door open, ready to chastise Strike for making them late. Robin’s face fell as her eyes tracked across the bed and she saw Strike, bare-chested and with a blanket barely gracing his hips and one leg uncovered. His arm was thrown out across the bed, trapped under the milky white curves of a woman whose face was turned toward him. The blanket trailed off between them so that it covered just the woman’s lower legs and Robin could see they were stretched out to entangle with Strike’s one and a half.

 

Robin had seconds to school her features as Strike took a deep breath and turned his head towards her. Eyes full of sleep and then a sudden recognition met hers and she stumbled backward.

 

“Sorry, I... we have to... it’s nine.” She looked away, at the wall across from his bed and then the floor and felt herself blushing.

 

“I...”It was barely a grunt and Strike seemed to have given up on whatever excuse it was going to be before he even started. Robin looked back and saw him sit up and pull the blanket back from where it had fallen further to reveal the bend of one hip and a shadow of hair. The woman moaned gently and began to stretch, Robin backed out of the room with a sudden urge to prevent herself from seeing the face of his... date? One night stand? Lover?

 

She pulled the door shut with a slam and propelled herself down the stairs and into the office. Standing with the door safely shut behind her Robin paused and felt a sharp pain in her chest as her cheeks reddened and her vision clouded over with tears. The familiar sound of movement upstairs only caused more tears to form as a second set of footsteps joined Strike’s.

 

She walked to her desk and mentally shook herself. She was dating, why wouldn’t he be dating too? They’d joked about Tinder profiles only last week when Robin let slip she had a date after work. She thought of all the women he had been with while she knew him. She knew he had sex with other woman, both in and out of relationships, so why now, seeing the evidence in front of her, did it hit her like a physical blow? Like an act of betrayal? She looked glumly at the bag of supplies beside her desk and felt a wave of inadequacy wash over her.

 

Ten minutes later Robin, who had made sure her eyes were no longer red-rimmed, sat with her computer switched off and the bag of snacks on her lap ready to go. She heard his uneven tread descend the stairs alone.

 

“Ready?” He said, stood halfway behind the door and fixing his coat collar with a sheepish look on his face. Since when is he embarrassed by his conquests, Robin thought bitterly.

 

“What about-“

 

“She‘ll pull the door shut behind her.”

 

Charming.

 

They made their way out to the car in silence, with Strike eyeing up the bag in Robin’s hand. Robin could see him glancing at her as they pulled out into the London traffic.

 

“We’ll be late.” Robin said.

 

“It’s barely a quarter past.” He replied.

 

Robin could feel the charged atmosphere between them and knew he must feel it too. She stopped herself from looking at him as they sat in traffic and at red lights, instead watching workers and parents with children dash about and tourists meandering.

 

She couldn’t stop her mind from wandering. The blonde hair splayed across the pillow, the span of his chest, the entangled legs, the blanket falling away from him as he sat up.

 

“You alright?”

 

“Fine.” She said harshly. He let out a huff and rolled the window down so he could smoke.

 

“How was your Tinder date?” He asked.

 

“He was a prick.” She replied sharply. And I didn’t have sex with him. The thought popped into her mind with an air of confusion.

 

“Yours went well.” She said and the moment the words left her lips she regretted it. Again, two bodies entwined against pale blue sheets entered her mind.

 

“Robin, look...” His voice started out stern and then tapered off with a long exhale.

 

She saw him light another cigarette from the butt of his last which he then flicked out of the window. The air coming in was cold and suddenly his smoking irritated her. The Land Rover still smelled like him even when she was in it alone, the open window did nothing to stop the smell clinging on. He was slowly reaching all corners of her life, Robin realised.

 

Halfway to Windsor Strike had already drank half the flask of coffee and was making his way through a second bag of crisps. They stopped at a petrol station along the motorway and Robin returned from using the bathroom to see him leaning against the back of the Land Rover smoking another cigarette, Robin had lost count of how many he’d had so far. They got back into the car in silence and continued on their journey.

 

“Ilsa’s planning a party for Nick’s birthday.” Strike said, trying to deflate some of the tension.

 

“Good.”

 

“She wanted my opinion on buying a few kegs instead of cases of beer.”

 

Robin raised an eyebrow, knowing what Strike’s answer would have been.

 

“And I’m sure none of those kegs will accidentally find their way home with you.”

 

“No.” The no was gruff and drawn out and Robin had to suppress a smile. She looked across at him and then felt a blow of sadness. More and more they were slipping into some sort of domesticity, their friendship becoming deeper. Robin could spend days in blissful ignorance, focusing on cases and enjoying the banter between them, and then she’d see the way a female client would look at him or she’d flick through Tinder and her mind would fall into a cavern of doubt. She’d only loved one man romantically and now felt ill equipped to discern this feeling again.

 

“At least you’ll have a date.” She said it and then inwardly winced and gripped the steering wheel tighter. Somehow her tongue just couldn’t stop poking at the issue. She felt him stiffen beside her and look out the window.

 

“I don’t have a date.”

 

“What about-“

 

“That was just sex.” His casual tone made Robin scoff aloud and roll her eyes.

 

“What?” He countered.

 

“The way you talk about...” Robin’s voice trailed off as Lorelei entered her mind, friendly and likable Lorelei and the text Robin had seen on Strike’s phone when their relationship ended.

 

“It’s just sex, no strings attached, Emma knows-“

 

“You know her name then.”

 

He turned to look at her and Robin was thankful she was driving so she had the excuse to avoid his gaze.

 

“Why are you acting like I’ve done something wrong?”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“You’ve been in a fucking mood with me all morning.” She could hear in his voice that he was confused by her behavior and was trying to understand.

 

“Pull over.”

 

“What?” Robin looked around at him and followed his gaze to a patch of empty space in front of tall black iron gates, presumably guarding the driveway to a house.

 

“Pull over.” He repeated, pointing at the space. Robin indicated and quickly pulled over, earning a blast of the horn from the driver behind.

 

“What?” She turned and asked him sharply.

 

“You asked me once what I wanted from you.” His eyes seemed soft now and Robin felt her heart quicken in anticipation of where the conversation was going. She nodded and he continued.

 

“What do you want from me?” He asked and she suddenly remembered the way his eyebrows had risen in that cafe when she’d asked him the same question.

 

“What do you-“

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“Well, I want the business-“

 

“Not the business.” Robin noticed a hitch in his voice and saw that the lines around his eyes were tense.

 

“I want...” Robin paused and held his gaze. The air in the car felt heavy and stale and then like a filmstrip Robin saw a line of faces cross through her mind. Charlotte, Ciara, Nina, Elin, Lorelei. All smiling at first and then frowning, seeing something beyond Robin that concerned them.

 

“I want to interview this client’s assistant.”

 

Cormoran held her gaze for what seemed like forever and Robin felt her breath freeze in her chest. His eyes drifted down and his lips parted slightly. He turned then in his seat and looked out through the windscreen and Robin watched him, trying to discern the look that had passed across his face.

 

A horn blared from behind and Robin turned to see a car turned in behind them. The iron gates in front started to creak open, the homeowner clearly the irate driver behind them, and as Robin began to turn the car around and wave an apology Strike pulled his lighter and cigarettes from his pocket and rolled down the window. They drove in silence for the fifteen minutes it took to reach their destination.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it had been 5 minutes since I wrote some angsty pining so there we go. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you again for reading, the kudos, commenting. You are all wonderful and supportive!


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